


of deer and decisions

by dragonair



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Or Does It, Pranks, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), The Great Fodlan Bakeoff, claude tries wooing byleth and it fails miserably, hinted marihilda if you squint, split POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24646324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonair/pseuds/dragonair
Summary: Byleth chooses her house tomorrow afternoon, and Claude wants her to pick the Golden Deer.He starts by asking the only people he can to help. The only thing is, they're awful at working as a team.
Relationships: Golden Deer Students & My Unit | Byleth, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	of deer and decisions

**Author's Note:**

> huge thank you to [lana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/librarybooks) for beta-ing and supporting me throughout this hellish process <3
> 
> this fic was a part of a challenge called [The Great Fodlan Bake-off!](https://twitter.com/tgfodlanbakeoff) we were assigned 5 themes to incorporate into a fic, in which we only had 48 hours to write. in this fic, you'll see the themes: gossip, secret, exploration, ambition, and devotion. 
> 
> the golden deer were my first house, and while i've played all of the routes by now... i still harbor a great fondness for them. i hope you enjoy!!

Hilda knows when she’s being used. 

She uses people all the time, after all, and if she weren’t aware of her own tricks, she’d be a hell of a lot worse at getting whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. So when Claude von Riegan, heir to the Leicester Alliance, starts _batting his eyelashes_ in her doorway the night before preliminary instruction begins, she’s already gathered all she needs to know about his intentions. 

“ _Disgusting_ ,” she says, wrinkling her nose. She thought she’d seen the worst of him; but it’s only been a week, and the longer she talks with him, the more she realizes she’s bound to be continually disappointed. “Whatever you’re doing with your face— just, please, make it stop.” 

Claude grins idiotically. “Stop what? Using my _exquisite_ charms to aid in the asking of a favor? Why, _Hilda_. I thought you, of all people, would be flattered!”

_Aha. So there is a favor._ Hilda idly twirls a strand of hair from her left ponytail. _Whatever it is, he’s definitely not getting said favor for free. I have a mantra to uphold, after all— one that prevents me from doing work without getting anything in return._ She looks him up and down, frowning. _And Claude’s… whatever this is, won’t cut it as a form of payment!_

“I might’ve been flattered— if I didn’t know you were full of bullshit,” she replies, crossing her arms. “We may not be friends, Claude, but you’re easier to read than you think. You’ve got that gleam in your eye; you only get like that when you’re up to something.”

“And here I thought we had something special,” he chuckles, leaning against the door frame. A more hopeless person might even say he was doing so _seductively._ His grin contorts into the most unconvincing pout she’s ever seen in her life. “My only friend, renouncing our friendship the day before classes begin! What _ever_ shall I do!”

As dismissive as she might sound, she’s not… disinterested in what Claude might be scheming. It’s likely another prank. The rest of the houses at Garreg Mach are so uptight, some of them honestly have it coming to them. Judging by the terrible leer he adorns, his plans must have something to do with Edelgard, or Dimitri. 

They haven’t even been here a full week yet, and Claude has already roped poor Marianne into a prank. She hadn’t known it would involve Prince Dimitri when Claude dragged her to the Dining Hall, but she was _essential in the lowering of His Royal Highness’ Defenses,_ apparently. Of course, Dimitri’s guard has been up since learning about Claude’s interest in scheming, but he hadn’t expected the good ol’ salt and sugar switcheroo when Marianne sat next to him, effectively leading him straight to public humiliation. Even Hilda had to admit, seeing the Crown Prince of Faerghus walk straight into a trap was _hilarious._

That trap came at the risk of Marianne’s sense of dignity, though; she hadn’t come out of her room for an entire day afterwards. Hilda had been planning on talking to Claude about that, so she supposes it _is_ convenient that he decided to show up here, unannounced. 

“You’re more annoying than usual.” Hilda scoffs, opening the door just wide enough for Claude to get through. He shuffles inside, footwork still a tad too unrehearsed to pass as an ordinary noble. “Is this about Edelgard? Even if you manage to surprise her, she’ll definitely try to kill you afterwards. Or maybe even me. God, her retainer is so _scary_ , Claude, I don’t want to die here—”

Edelgard, always the wiser, now avoids all of the Golden Deer like a contagious disease. Hilda could’ve sworn she saw that vampire-looking retainer of hers whispering curses at Ignatz while his back was turned. (The poor guy. He’ll probably be finding bats in his room all school year, if they actually worked.)

Legitimacy of curses aside, the other houses are onto them by now. Which would make pranking anyone outside of their house more difficult...

“—It’s not about Edelgard,” he says, stretching his arms over his head. ( _Why does he do that? To assert his dominance?_ _He’s_ such _a loser.)_ His expression twists into something a bit more genuine, a sheepishness she hadn’t thought she could witness on Claude’s face. _Where did that leer go? The one he had on his face not thirty seconds ago?_ “This time, it’s... actually kinda serious.” 

Hilda tries looking at him like he has three heads, but it doesn’t work. Having two secret heads no one else knows about would probably be the _least_ surprising thing she’d heard about Claude all week. Garreg Mach might be uptight and snooty, but the gossip travels farther than an untamed wyvern on the outskirts of Almyra. But still! _Him? Serious?_

“You?” she tilts her head in askance. “A serious favor?”

“Yep. Well, more or less,” he clarifies, spinning the chair from her desk and sitting on it backwards. Like he _owns_ the place — Hilda’s own room! — what a bastard! “Do you remember that mercenary who walked around the monastery today? Jeralt— the Blade Breaker’s kid?”

Hilda raises an eyebrow. “Sure, I did.” Literally everyone else at the monastery did, too. Despite not saying much in return, the mercenary made sure to speak to all of the students from each of the houses. Hilda had thought she’d be joining the Knights of Seiros to follow in her father’s footsteps, but maybe that wasn’t the case. She looked younger than most of the other knights, and perhaps a bit more eager... could she be joining the students? Hilda hadn’t heard anything, but it’s possible Claude knew something she didn’t. House leader privileges and all. “Is she your next victim?”

Smirking, Claude laces his fingers together in a contemplative pose. “You could say that.” 

Hilda’s had enough of Claude’s little word games. “What could _possibly_ mean by that, Claude.” 

“She’s going to be a professor at the Officer’s Academy, starting this year,” Claude explains suddenly. “And she’ll be picking her house tomorrow afternoon. That doesn’t give us much time.” 

“Oh my god.” She’s gonna need him to run that by her again, like, three more times. “She’s… what?” 

He crosses his legs triumphantly, ignoring her question. A shit-eating grin adorns his face; Hilda has a stinking suspicion she’ll come to both appreciate and despise it, these coming months. “We’re going to make Teach pick the Golden Deer.” 

🦌 🦌 🦌

Byleth isn’t sure what she’s looking for in a house.

She hasn’t been sure of much at all since moving to Garreg Mach, really. 

Learning of an entire _religion_ she’d known nothing about a week prior aside, meeting Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude all in one night was, frankly, exhausting. They’d all been promising in battle, sure. But when it came to making a decision between the three, she had no clue where to start. 

Edelgard seemed poised, and quite powerful. There’s clearly something lying far beneath the surface of her personality, and Byleth is intrigued, to say the least. Her skills with an axe are far beyond Byleth’s own level, but that concerned Byleth more than it impressed her. What would she do if her students surpassed her? How could she expect them to properly grow?

Dimitri also seemed promising, if a bit uptight. She felt confident enough in her lance and sword skills to give him some pointers here and there, and his brute strength was certainly something to gawk at, but something about him seemed… off. If what she’d heard from the rest of the Blue Lions’ students was true, then she was definitely right in that darkness lurked beneath that mask of refinement and chivalry.

And finally, Claude. Byleth is just… so unsure about him, is all. Whereas Dimitri and Edelgard actively put up a front so as to hide their darker secrets, Claude seems all too forthcoming about his secretive side. He’d even been a tad overly familiar with her upon their chance meeting, but Byleth hadn’t minded all that much. It was… refreshing, she supposes, to be treated as something other than a fearless warrior. 

Perhaps he even saw her as a friend. 

Still, though. There’s something to that cunning side of Claude’s that she doesn’t fully trust… At least, not yet. And she’d like to know that she can have his trust, at the very least, if she’s going to be his professor. 

🦌 🦌 🦌

Operating on only a few hours of planning, knowing all too little about his supposed allies, and effectively working against the forces of the church did not make this scheme an easy one for Claude. He’d gotten Hilda on his side of the matter rather handily, but even she gave her fair deal of incredulous sputtering when he revealed the monastery’s big secret of the year. And unfortunately, Claude isn’t sure he has it in him to hear the incredulous sputtering of six other fawns, when they hear said secret. 

The secret in question is, of course, Byleth Eisner. Daughter of Jeralt the Blade Breaker, and hopefully, the future professor of the Golden Deer house. 

He can’t put his finger on exactly why he’s drawn to her, but he is.

The logical side of him knows it’s because she’s strong. She’d saved him, just a few nights ago, along with Their Noble Highnesses of Faerghus and Adrestia. She’d given them direct tactical orders, ones he wouldn’t dare question, without saying much of anything at all. The battlefield was the barren night sky, and she’d been a dazzling comet, surging through the opposing forces with a grace and poise he could only describe as ethereal.

Which is reason enough as to why he wants to exercise her teaching skills for the Golden Deer house. 

And yet, Claude knows there’s another reason he’s drawn to her; one he still can’t put into words. Knowing this, and knowing that there’s a possibility that she’ll choose a different house, leaving the Golden Deer with either Professor Manuela or Professor Hanneman… 

It simply won’t do. He’s certain it’d be disastrous. And of course, this problem is _worst_ for Claude himself, since he cannot enroll in Teach’s classes if she doesn’t choose the Golden Deer house herself. Exacerbating this issue: this is a dilemma only Claude will suffer from. 

As house leader, he must stay in the Golden Deer class. If she picks the lion cubs, any of his fellow fawns could elect to join her at any point in the year. Should she pick the eagles, he’s sure he’ll have Hilda on his side, at least, but the rest will undoubtedly pick the professor with superior combat experience at some point during the year.

Thus, Claude cannot fail. If he does, this _something_ that compels him to learn more about Teach, to learn from her while at the Officer’s Academy, will be lost. And… there’s part of him that thinks he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

The solution? 

Wooing her into choosing the golden path, by any means necessary.

🦌 🦌 🦌

Seeking Jeralt’s advice proved almost entirely unhelpful.

“They’re all brats,” he says, unpacking the only weapons they’d thought to bring with them into his quarters. “What does it matter which ones you pick?”

He extends a hand, and she drops the bag of lances she’d carried from her room. While the question of _which house do I choose?_ is certainly the most pressing at the moment, she’s compiling a list of what she wants to ask him later, now that they’re living here long term. 

_What do you mean you’re the Blade Breaker? How come I never knew you lived here, or that the church existed? Why do I get the sense Leonie hates me for being your kid?_

Jeralt sighs. “You’re not saying anything,” he says, after only a few moments of silence. “Which either means you’re off in your own thoughts, or you don’t like my answer.”

Byleth shrugs. Both are true, and mostly, she’s thinking about how recently she graduated from “brat” to “kid” herself. Whether she’s still a brat in his eyes. And how she can redirect him into giving her an answer she wants.

“What do you look for in subordinates,” she settles on. 

He visibly fights the urge to reach for his flask — which has been emptied, since Seteth found out Jeralt had been carrying it on him. During their briefing, Seteth had repeated the phrase “no alcoholic beverages” at least four times. Part of Byleth wonders how long it’d take before her father would finally snap.

“In a subordinate,” he says, apparently having weighed his thoughts to his liking, “I look for someone who will have their allies’ backs. Someone like you.”

Byleth fixes her gaze on him, blinking owlishly. 

“It helps if they’re ambitious,” Jeralt concludes, pulling a frayed diary, one of the only keepsakes he has, out of a knapsack, “about what you want them to learn.” 

_Ambition, huh?_

🦌 🦌 🦌

All things considered, it didn’t take much convincing for the entirety of the Golden Deer house to join in on Claude’s latest scheme. 

Thanks to Hilda’s expertise in coercion, The eight of them gathered round in Claude’s room just a few hours later, each of them complaining about the lack of ambiance (Lorenz), appearing entirely claustrophobic (Ignatz), exhibiting complete apathy to the situation at hand (Marianne), or lying somewhere in the middle (Hilda, Leonie, Raphael).

They might not be much of a team, yet, but they’re not hopeless, either. Claude’s sure that with a little bit of work and a reliable leader, they could achieve great things together. And they’re unified on the one issue that really counts in this situation: they all want Teach on their side. 

As expected, it took a bit of sputtering, on each of their parts. He’d been able to take it, but just _barely._ Claude had been surprised, too, to learn that a mercenary barely older than any of them would be taking the reins in a Garreg Mach classroom for the year. But after some convincing on Claude’s part, bolstered by Hilda’s art of verbal ornamentation, the rest of the Golden Deer had been thoroughly convinced.

Even Lorenz, Crown Prince of All Things Stale and Dull agreed to assist in their plans— if a bit begrudgingly. 

“As much as it pains me to side with such an unbecoming party,” Lorenz starts, not bothering so much as to meet Claude’s eyes. “I have learned all that I _possibly_ could about both faith and reason magic from the esteemed Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad. Seeing as how Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela _both_ specialize in Faith magic, having weaponry as their secondary and tertiary specializations, studying under Professor Byleth would prove most beneficial toward my personal training—”

“—Right, Lorenz. I’m sure Teach would be flattered to—”

“—that’s _Professor,_ to us!” Lysithea insists, on her perch beside Claude’s nightstand, for what must be the tenth time in the two minutes they’ve spent together. “Don’t disrespect the person we are trying our very best to impress!”

Claude, sitting at his desk, takes her criticism in stride. “Yes, yes, our dearest _Professor_ , whom we both appreciate and look up to very much. We need to think of ways to get her on our side, and quickly— we only have until tomorrow afternoon.” 

“I’ve got an idea,” Leonie says helpfully, gaining the attention of seven eagerly rapt fawns. Somehow, she climbed atop Claude’s eight foot tall dresser, and… frankly, Claude doesn’t even want to ask her to get down. However she got up there, it’s _fascinating._ “Why don’t we ask Jeralt what she likes? If she likes a certain type of flower, or something? And then we can give it to her tomorrow morning. I could ask him for us because I was his apprentice—”

“—You want to just walk up to the _Blade Breaker_ and ask him what type of flower his daughter, who's also going to be our professor, likes?” Ignatz says. He’s standing in front of the door, weathering a groove in the floor with his foot. “What if he figures out what we’re up to? What if she doesn’t like flowers?”

Raphael slings an arm around Ignatz’s shoulder, prompting the archer to jump in apparent shock. Against all odds, his head doesn’t hit the ceiling. Against even greater odds, Raphael ignores this. “It doesn’t have to be a little flower! The professor probably likes tough, manly things. Y’know, like, meat! And... muscles!” 

“Raphael, are you sure those aren’t just things that _you_ like?” Claude says, frowning. “But Ignatz has a point. It’s getting pretty late, so we probably shouldn’t bother _the most powerful commander the Knights of Seiros has ever known_.”

“And by the time we get there in the morning,” Ignatz continues, noticeably paler than before, “it might be too late for us to find whatever it is that the Professor even likes.” 

Hilda groans, extending the full length of Claude’s bed. Her head _just barely_ meets the side of Marianne’s leg and Claude _sees_ Marianne jolt to attention before leaning into the touch, ever so slightly. 

_How interesting,_ Claude smirks to himself. _Certainly something to check in on later..._

“Aughhh…” Hilda grumbles. If Claude weren’t looking for it, he wouldn’t have noticed the faint pink dust scattered across her cheeks that intensify, the longer her head grazes Marianne’s thigh. “So we’re back to square one? Not knowing what to say or do and just… trying to convince her we’re the best house?”

Leonie raises her hands in offense. “Listen, I gave my two cents, you guys left it.”

“Perhaps we could best combat this issue by each of us approaching her individually,” Lysithea offers. “I would visit her in the library, and recommend to her all of my favorite books—”

“—We won’t have enough time for that,” Ignatz says, brow puckering with concern. And, _goddess,_ Claude’s not sure how he’ll be able to help such a worrywart. He has to make sure each of his own are confident enough to represent their house, after all. “and besides, what if she’s the type of person who doesn’t like being bombarded with—”

“—I would not _bombard_ her,” Lysithea interjects, “but you’re correct in that she won’t appreciate each of us talking to her in such a short time frame. That is why I elect that only the four of us with the _least insufferable personalities”_ Claude fights a grin, “approach her tomorrow morning, so she knows the Golden Deer at our absolute _best._ ” 

Hilda meets Claude’s gaze and smirks. “So, Lysithea, which of the four of us would you say have the… how did you put it? _Least insufferable personalities_?” 

The youngest deer crosses her arms and frowns. “ _Obviously,_ it’s me, Marianne, Raphael, and you, Hilda.” 

The silence that follows Lysithea’s statement, Claude thinks, could be likened to the eerie calm before the most calamitous of all socially ludicrous storms.

“What’s wrong with _my_ personality?" Leonie says, the first to breach the silence. She did seem quick at putting two and two together, something Claude isn't sure he can say for the rest of his house. "It’s because I’m a commoner, isn’t it. All of you nobles just hate us for being below you!”

“That’s not true, Leonie,” Claude replies, in between fits of laughter. He’d be offended about his ranking in the bottom half, Lysithea hadn’t been so straightforward about it. “Lysithea apparently likes Raphael’s personality just fine!” 

Raphael points to himself, grinning madly. “Aww, really? Thanks, kiddo!”

“Don’t call me _kiddo!_ I’m only two years younger than you!” 

“On the contrary, I—”

Marianne shifts uncomfortably. “Um, if you want, Leonie, you could switch places with me—”

“ _No_ , Marianne _,”_ Lysithea insists, placing a comforting hand on Marianne’s elbow. “You’re much more tolerable than anyone else here. I’m sure the Professor would love you.”

“I take offense to—”

Claude ignores Lorenz, because he can’t _take_ this anymore, dammit, he’s at his limit. “Marianne, have you and Lysithea even spoken to each other before this?”

Lysithea opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

Marianne’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say anything either.

“I’m just surprised I made the cut,” Hilda smiles, twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger. She leans ever closer into Marianne’s lap, causing the mage stiffen, yet again, except this time, she turns away. Hilda shrugs.

Leonie’s frown deepens. “Hold on, I still don’t know why _I_ didn’t make the cut, Lysithea—” 

“Come to think of it, Lys, maybe you should lighten up a little bit! Did you have enough for dinner tonight?” Raphael asks, opening Claude’s door. “Is that why you’re grumpy? My sis gets like that sometimes, and food always helps. C’mon, we can go to the Dining Hall together!” 

_Uh oh._ They’re being pretty loud, and if Raphael keeps the door open, someone’s bound to hear. Claude supposes he’d better do something about it before—

Lysithea jumps from her perch, hands on her hips. The frown she wears could only be likened to some small, harmless rodent, frustrated by an apparent lack of berries from whichever tree she’d crawled out of. “Lys? I am _not_ your little sister, Raphael—”

At further glance, this seems like it’ll be a bit too difficult to quell on his own, so... it might be okay? No one will be patrolling, anyway, and school hasn’t even started yet. 

“I mean, I guess it’s okay I wasn’t included,” Ignatz says, finally. The poor guy will probably be overthinking this for weeks. “I just want to know if I did something to upset you? If I did something wrong, please—”

“I find this matter to be most troubling. If you continue to degrade me verbally, The Gloucester Legal Defense Team will be in conta—”

“Oh, you’re _on_ , Lorenz—”

“—what’s going on in here?”

At the sound of the voice, both piercingly accusatory and faintly familiar to them, everyone in Claude’s room stiffens. 

Claude has never been one to make assumptions. But the momentary horror that flashes in each of the fawns’ eyes at the figure in the doorway could mean only one thing—

He turns in his chair and, sure enough, the mercenary they’d spent all evening conspiring over stands in the doorway. Her hands are on her hips, she’s wearing the same inscrutable expression he’d been so enamored by the day prior; eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin, firm line.

_Well… that could have gone much, much better._

“Hey, Teach!” he says, flipping around in his chair. Mustering the cheesiest smile he can manage, he goes for emulating the very picture of innocence. “Crazy to see you around here, huh?”

Needless to say, she sees through it.

  
  


🦌 🦌 🦌

Byleth had heard more of the conversation than she’d initially let on. 

Seteth had sent her to partake in a practice round of patrolling the dormitories. He’d informed her that she’d only be there to observe, and that if anything escalated to yelling to inform _him_ instead of dealing with it herself, but after hearing the topic of conversation… 

It was flattering (if a bit embarrassing) to know that her potential students were quite literally _fighting_ over her. She’s used to people fighting her— directly, in combat, to the death, —and not pitting themselves against other opponents for her sake. 

“Rules are rules,” she says, using her best _battle strategy_ voice. She hopes it covers for her lack of knowing which rules they actually broke. “You guys need to head back to your rooms.”

The eight of them, each placed in precarious positions throughout Claude’s room, have not taken their eyes off of Byleth since she disrupted their function. Lorenz, Hilda, and Lysithea’s jaws appear practically unhinged, whereas Marianne, Ignatz, and Leonie turn paler than Dimitri did, when he’d been force fed salt-seasoned sweets that week. Raphael, unaffected by the chaos around him, remains smiling as wide as ever, while Claude… attempts to appear innocent. Terribly.

It would make her uncomfortable, if part of her didn’t feel oddly at home.

She won’t sugarcoat it — they’re far off from being a team. They weren’t particularly unified, and some of the comments they exchanged were, in fact, completely degrading. They won’t hit the ground running, and it’ll be a long time before they’re even ready for a short sprint. 

In spite of this, they _do_ have the ambition Byleth thinks she’s looking for. 

And if they’re willing to go to these lengths to make Byleth choose them, maybe she’ll be able to bring the best out of their house after all… 

“Be back in your rooms in five minutes,” she says, unable to fight the smile that pokes through the corners of her lips, “or I’ll give you double homework the first week of class.”

Somehow, Lysithea’s jaw drops further. 

“Does this— does this mean what I think it means?”

🦌 🦌 🦌

_(It does.)_

🦌 🦌 🦌

Byleth works her deer to the bone.

For a professor who’s only a few years older than her students, she’s certainly qualified for the position. (This leaves Claude with all sorts of questions— how did Rhea know Teach would be such a natural fit for Garreg Mach? How does Teach say so much, without speaking a word? What secrets hide behind that knowing smile of hers? He’s practically _itching_ to find out.) 

Byleth leads them to victory in _Ye_ _Fabled Mock Battle of the Great Tree Moon_ with ease, despite most of her students not knowing how to wield their weapons yet. It’s almost as if their will to impress their professor knows no limitations, nor bounds of actual reality.

And despite needing a tutorial from _Claude_ of all people on how to properly give lectures, she seems to know what she’s doing already. She’d lent him her notes after lecture, once, and he’d (totally accidentally) seen her extensive plans on which topics each student should pursue for the rest of the school year. They even included notes for students in other houses, and detailed backup plans in case of a change of heart. All of this, and it’s only been two weeks. 

She’s thoroughly prepared them for their first _real_ battle— a group of bandits she and Claude happen to already be acquainted with.

While Claude’s no stranger to bloodshed, and he’s confident in Teach’s ability to prepare them… he’s still nervous about this mission. 

Killing hasn’t been mandatory at the Officer’s Academy, until this mission. It’s the start of a new chapter. He and bloodshed might go back, but the rest of the students? Once they cross this bridge, they can never return. 

Claude knows his fellow fawns will be shaken by this. They chose this path, yet he still grits his teeth in his powerlessness to stop it.

“Look alive, House Leader,” a familiar voice says. 

Teach rests her palm on his shoulder before he has the chance to turn. He smiles, warmth flickering in his gut. Truth be told, he’s grown all too accustomed to her presence at his side since they began their journey as partners, of sorts.

“We’ll need you on the front lines,” she continues, once she’s sure she has his attention. “Ignatz and Raphael are still struggling with their weapons. I’m putting them in back for now, but be prepared to cover them. I don’t want to expose Marianne or Lysithea directly.” Her typical small smile is substituted for a small, worried frown. _I suppose even Teach can’t hide her anxiety, at a time like this_. “It’ll be a rough day, Claude. Are you prepared?” 

Claude raises two fingers to his forehead in a salute. Even if he’s not, he’ll feign an outward appearance of competency. If only for her. “Aye aye, captain.”

Teach smirks at him knowingly. She's wearing the expression she usually does when she's weighing her options on what to say. “It’s comforting to know I can count on you," she settles on.

_She can count on him. Soon enough, she’ll be able to count on all of them._

Claude wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments & kudos are very much appreciated :D 
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsukisyama) !!


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